


When all the world's a stage (and all the actors can't find the exit)

by Valmouth



Series: Star Wars Kink Meme Fills [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Ending, Caught, Clones Commanders are Jedi Catnip, Clueless Qui-Gon, Complicated Clothing, Dark Obi-Wan Kenobi, Determined Anakin, Everybody's Doing It, F/M, Force Training, Gen, Jedi Code, Kink Meme, Lingerie, M/M, Multi, Noping the hell out, Not A Fix-It, PERFECT WORLD, Padme is done, Poor Obi-Wan, Strippers, The Rebel Alliance, Time Travel, down with the empire, except anakin, happiness, kink meme fills, performers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-09 02:25:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10401657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valmouth/pseuds/Valmouth
Summary: Star Wars Kink Meme fills so every chapter will vary. This specific set is for the Gen to No Archive Warnings Apply categories.





	1. Time Travel, Obi-Wan Nopes the Fuck Out

**Original Prompt:** "So you know those fics where post-ROTS Obi-Wan's consciousness is somehow sent back in time to when he was a padawan and he sets out to make everything better? I'd like a fic with the same premise, except instead of trying to fix things Obi-Wan promptly breaks down and tries to nope the fuck out. He is 100% done with this shit, he is sick of being jerked around by the Force and watching all of his loved ones die, so he is getting out while the going is good and become an Outer Rim space pirate or something. Obi-Wan is DONE.  
  
Your choice if he really does join Hondo's fleet (or elope with Satine, or anything that does not involve being a Jedi, or whatever), or if Qui-Gon calms him down and gets him to stay."

 

 **A/N:** Sadly, I never did get as far as figuring out whether he joined Hondo's fleet but I'm sort of partial to him turning up on Satine's doorstep and going 'Can I sleep on your couch for the rest of my life?'

 

 **Original dreamwidth thread** \- <https://starwarskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/586.html?thread=1145418#cmt1145418>

 

* * *

 

 

"I'm going to be a pirate," Obi-Wan announces, "No, a bounty hunter. Or maybe I'll go back to Bandomeer and be a farmer. I'll think of something."  
  
"Padawan, I don't understand..." Qui-Gon is trying to be supportive. He is trying to listen. He is, moreover, trying to be calm.  
  
But this unusual turn of events is starting to concern him.   
  
Not only has Obi-Wan broken down in the middle of the night and unleashed what amounted to a psychic explosion of pain and fear and _anger_ that roused half the Temple and all the Council members, but he is now throwing random things into packs and then throwing them back out again.  
  
Qui-Gon is worried enough that he does something a Master should not do - he reaches out and physically catches his Padawan by the arm. He swings him around, shakes him a little, and holds him there firmly while he looks down into his eyes.   
  
And he allows his own vulnerability and confusion to be obvious.  
  
"Obi-Wan," he says, "What is going on?"  
  
And so Obi-Wan tells him. Something about a dark future and war and death - "so much death", Obi-Wan mumbles, almost to himself - and his voice begins to rise and the Force is chaotic with the stirrings of fear and pain and anger again.   
  
"Calm down," Qui-Gon instructs.  
  
And in response, his staid, obedient student breaks his hold, turns around and shatters a low stool with a crash of Force-energy.  
  
In the silence, Obi-Wan's breathing is harsh and loud.   
  
"In the circumstances," he says finally, "I'm being remarkably calm, Master."  
  
"Obi-Wan, something is troubling you..."  
  
Obi-Wan laughs. "Yes," he says, "Yes, I am troubled. I am angry. I am _done_. I have lived this and I will not live it again. I have given all I had and it was never good enough."  
  
He snatches the pack up and strides to the door.   
  
"Padawan, you will stop right now," Qui-Gon says harshly.  
  
Obi-Wan whirls around. "In a year, Master, you will be given a mission to Naboo as an ambassador of the Republic. If you have any sense, you will run in the other direction. If you don't, at least take three Masters and a full medical team with you. And even then I would pray to the Force. Much good it's ever done any of us," he mumbles bitterly.  
  
And then he leaves.

 

 


	2. Jedi/ Clones (Obi-Wan/ Cody)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every Jedi is sleeping with his clones commander and angsting about it, thinking they're the only ones. When one of them get caught, every other one decide to come clean to try to protect the first one...

Original Dreamwidth Link: <http://starwarskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/586.html?thread=1199946#cmt1199946>

* * *

 

 

He is a Knight, a Council member, the Negotiator, the Jedi who killed a Sith and the Master of the Chosen One but all of this is for nothing when he is caught in a very compromising situation with his clone commander.  
  
Literally.  
  
On holovid.  
  
Which is promptly paused at a very unflattering moment when he is summoned before the Council - that he is technically *on*! - and taken to task for this breach in ethics and violation of the Code.  
  
He tries not to look at where the little blue version of himself has his head thrown back, Cody's mouth on his throat and one hand quite far down the front of his leggings. He remembers distinctly what it feels like but it is rather a private image and this is a very public forum.  
  
"How do you explain your actions?" Depa asks.  
  
He opens his mouth and he isn't entirely sure exactly what he's going to say. The Master Jedi is possibly going to say something about ending this unsanctioned relationship and resuming his duty as a proper knight should. The Negotiator is probably going to say that they are in the midst of war and unexpected situations arise all the time. Obi-Wan Kenobi is definitely not going to be allowed to say that Cody is a good man, a good commander, and a very, very good lover.  
  
Sadly, when Yoda said that he had too much of his Master's defiance in him, he wasn't exaggerating. Obi-Wan's been taught stubbornness and self-determination by a man who had enough strength of will to flatten an in-ground bunker. He knows very well he's about to put his foot in his mouth and blow off the venerable Jedi High Council.  
  
Luckily, he doesn't get the chance; Anakin comes striding in.  
  
Followed, Obi-Wan notices, by a whole battalion of Jedi Masters currently operating under the title of General.  
  
A part of him is a little concerned. If they're all here, who in the Force's name is out there fighting this Sith-spawned war?  
  
The rest of him is somewhat more concerned by the fact that his little blue image is still being obscenely groped in front of everyone by Cody. He doesn't think he'll be able to look anyone in the eye when this is done.  
  
A mon calamari with large silver eyes steps forward from the crowd. "Respected Council," she says, her voice clear, "We seek an audience."  
  
"Bant?" Obi-Wan recognises.  
  
She directs a quick, personal smile at him - "Hello, Obi-Wan."  
  
"This is unacceptable," Ki-Adi-Mundi protests. He rises from his chair and addresses the throng. "You must leave immediately! This is a closed session."  
  
Anakin folds his arms and lowers his head bullishly. "Oh, we're not going anywhere, Master."  
  
Obi-Wan reflects that his former Padawan also has a not inconsiderable amount of defiance in him. Frankly, he's ready to blame Dooku for this fault in their training lineage and be done with it.  
  
"What is going on?" he asks, finally settling on something he really, really wants to know.  
  
Bant lays a hand on his arm. "Anakin told us what's happened. We're here to speak on this matter."  
  
Obi-Wan flushes. "Bant, you didn't need to drag all these people down here! I made a mistake and I will accept the consequences."  
  
She shakes her head wryly.  
  
Luminara Unduli speaks up from the centre of the group. "Actually, Obi-Wan, none of us knew the others were coming. We just happened to meet in the antechamber outside."  
  
"And," Bant adds, "We're all here to accept our consequences."  
  
Anakin grins. "They'll have to punish all or none, my Master."  
  
Obi-Wan blinks. "I... You are aware of what I'm charged with, yes?"  
  
Luminara is every inch the serene and self-possessed Master and General she always is. "I have also been having it off on every available flat surface with Clone Commander CC-1004."  
  
Obi-Wan feels his jaw slacken. Though thankfully it does not drop.  
  
"Gree has a very talented tongue," Luminara confides.  
  
Loud enough to be heard by everyone.  
  
"It must be an inherent genetic trait," Bant agrees, "Clone Commander CC-673 is also very... stimulating."  
  
Obi-Wan stares at the entire group of them. And then looks accusingly at Anakin.  
  
"Don't tell me," he says, "Rex?"  
  
Anakin holds up his hands. "Actually, Rex isn't my type. I'm just here to support you, Obi-Wan."  
  
"We all are," Kit Fisto avers, "As we all share the same transgression."   
  
He leaves the crowd to stand beside Obi-Wan, arms crossed and head high.  
  
Bant takes her place silently beside her former Master, and Luminara joins them.  
  
One by one they all stand with him.  
  
He's beyond every possible realm of shock when Mace and Eeth Koth also rise slowly from their chairs.  
  
"In the circumstances," Mace says gruffly, "I believe my objectivity is compromised on this matter."  
  
Obi-Wan stares very hard at Yoda, but is immensely thankful that the Grand Master of their Order stays firmly seated. He doesn't think he'd survive figuring out that Yoda of all people has also been - as Luminara put it - 'having it off on every available flat surface with a clone commander'.  
  
He barely wants to think of Mace having it off.  
  
And then he is thinking of Mace having it off.  
  
And he just knows that Anakin is going to burst something when this is over and they're allowed to laugh about it. Except he doubts he ever will because that Sith-damned holovid is still exhibiting an extremely private moment in a very inappropriate manner for everyone in the room to see and now that his shame is driven out by his shock, he sees only one course of action open to him.  
  
He walks over to the holovid and turns it off.  
  
"I propose," he says, "That we all forget this ever happened."  
  
Mace and Eeth look at each other. "So moved," they chorus together.  
  
Bant and Kit Fisto both grin. Luminara looks decidedly happy.  
  
And then Anakin says, "Well, my tastes don't run to clone commanders but I am happily married to Senator Amidala. I officially announce this fact to the Council. Oh, and she's pregnant."  
  
Obi-Wan sighs.  
  
He definitely blames Dooku, he thinks darkly.

 


	3. Anakin/Padme, elaborate clothes kills the mood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padme buys and wears something new and sexy for a sexy night of sex with her sexy husband.
> 
> Except her new outfit turns out to be a lot more difficult to get out of than expected, and the mood dies after twenty minutes of struggling with all the ties, zippers, buttons, etc.
> 
> \+ Anakin gets weirdly determined to defeat the dress, to the point that extracting his wife from its nefarious grip becomes the point of the whole exercise. And he's gonna do it right, dammit--no ripping or tearing!

Original Dreamwidth Thread - <http://starwarskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/586.html?thread=1129546#cmt1129546>

* * *

 

 

He bends her over forcefully.  
  
Which, she reflects, should be a lot more fun than it currently is.  
  
As it stands he's just trying to get the laces to unknot.  
  
"Anakin," she says, trying to sound as reasonable as she can manage when her head is almost on her knees and her ribs are severely constricted, "I think... you may need... a knife..."  
  
"No," he says, "I've almost got it."  
  
"... can't breathe," she manages.  
  
And she'll say this for him - he hauls her back up surprisingly quickly. He even strokes her face and tumbled curls and looks utterly, totally repentant.  
  
"Padme," he says, "I'm so sorry. Are you okay? Here, just lean back a bit. It's okay. I've got you."  
  
And she is very thankful for the strong arm he uses to support her as she gets her protesting lungs to behave.  
  
This is sadly a lot easier than getting her clothes to behave. Or her husband, if it comes to that.  
  
"Ani," she says, when she has enough breathe, "Maybe we should call one of my..."  
  
"No! I can do this," Anakin says.  
  
She knows he can do it. He's got most of the buckles loosened, and the catch pulling the ruching up between her breasts has finally deigned to unsnap. The zipper down her back, though, can only be reached once the stays are undone.  
  
And those, sadly, are badly knotted.  
  
She sighs.  
  
She really does want to get out of this ridiculous garment.  
  
It had looked so amazingly sexy in the private showroom. And Anakin's face when he walked in....  
  
About thirty minutes ago, even remembering it had been enough to feel a shiver down her spine. The way his eyes had widened, his jaw slackened. The way he'd stared at her barely veiled breasts and legs, and then lingered over the tight bodice accentuating the curves of her slender hips.  
  
Oh, she'd been ready to be ravished.  
  
Until he'd unpeeled his mouth from hers to see what the hell was digging into his thigh and why the thin chains draped over her upper arms didn't have enough length to let her put her arms around his neck.  
  
She lifts a hand now to touch Anakin's handsome face.  
  
"Dearest," she says tenderly, "If you don't get a pair of scissors and cut me out of this thing, I will never have sex with you again."  
  
He blinks.  
  
"And I'm not joking," she promises.  
  
"Padme, I know it's uncomfortable..."  
  
"Next time you're wearing it," she says, "And then we'll see how uncomfortable you feel."  
  
"... but you look amazing and you're so beautiful and I just want this night to be perfect..."  
  
He kisses her neck.  
  
She yawns.  
  
"It was perfect before you put a knot in the stays! Get a pair of scissors. Or a knife. Or your lightsaber."  
  
"Padme..."  
  
"Anakin Skywalker, you are about to be the first divorced Jedi in the history of your precious Order. Will you or will you not get me out of this?"  
  
"Just give me ten minutes," he begs.  
  
And she sighs.  
  
"You have five," she grumbles, "And I'm lying on my front. That way you won't forget I have to breath every now and again."  
  
She falls asleep before he finally manages to unknot the damn stays.


	4. ObiKin - Post RotS Twist: Obsessed Obi-Wan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I've seen and read a lot about Anakin/Vaderkin winning the fight on Mustafar, taking Obi-Wan and being obsessive and possessive because Obi-Wan is all he has now and I've adored every one. But it got me thinking that with Obi-Wan's past of everyone he's ever loved dying, what if HE'S the one acting like that about Ana(Vader)kin?

Dreamwidth Original Prompt: <http://starwarskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/586.html?thread=1197130#cmt1197130>

* * *

 

 

He wins.   
  
It isn't a victory, but he does deal the final blow and Anakin does fall. Luckily, he doesn't fall far.  
  
All he needs, Obi-Wan decides, is a little more discipline.   
  
So he drags him back up the embankment, ignoring the struggling and screaming and no doubt the pain of movement. It will stop, he tells himself, once Anakin has received medical attention.   
  
It's the strain, he tells himself, from the war and fear and Palpatine.  
  
Palpatine is the reason, Obi-Wan decides, that this has happened. And so the only way to save the Galaxy is to save Anakin, and to do that, he'll need to take his former apprentice somewhere far, far away.  
  
It helps that Anakin can't run.  
  
"No prosthetics," he says firmly, "Until I'm certain that you can be responsible for your movement. Take the hand as well," he tells the medical droid.  
  
Bail is not convinced but then Bail doesn't know Anakin the way he does. He doesn't understand that the Jedi Order is not just about Force Sensitivity; it's ritual and practice and knowledge. So much knowledge, so much wisdom. And who do they have left? A Grandmaster and a Padawan who was knighted because he killed someone. And he couldn't even do that right.  
  
Obi-Wan is determined that he will at least do right by Anakin. He's failed everyone and everything else. He's lost it all - Qui-Gon, the Temple, Satine, Bant, Tahl - enemies and friends and acquaintances alike. Vanished in smoke. He adds Padme to the list as he holds a baby in his arms, squawling for it's mother and blind to the world it's been born into.  
  
His hands are covered in enough blood without accepting anymore. And he has Anakin now to take care of. Anakin, who has also lost everything.  
  
"I hate you," Anakin mumbles.  
  
"I love you," Obi-Wan returns.  
  
He is determined to say it over and over. Light will fight the Dark, and love will fight hate. All Anakin has ever needed was someone to love. Obi-Wan realises that now.   
  
"I love you," he says.  
  
Anakin still has one arm but after the first and last time Anakin tries to use the Force to pull a sharp, shiny object to him, Obi-Wan keeps it tied by a very short length of chain to the back of his Force-dampening collar.  
  
"Take this off," Anakin hisses, "Take it off! Don't do this!"  
  
"It's necessary," Obi-Wan says tightly, "You don't want the Emperor to find us. Search your heart, Anakin. You know the truth."  
  
"I know I'll kill you the second I get free," Anakin snarls.  
  
Obi-Wan brushes the hair off his brow and thinks of when Anakin was a child. Nine years old and so full of hope, so full of light. "We cut your hair on Naboo," he says softly, "Do you remember? And left one lock right here." He touches the place behind Anakin's right ear and it feels as though no time at all has passed. "You were so proud."  
  
"I didn't know then what I know now," Anakin tells him, eyes glowing gold with his sickness, "I didn't know I'd sold myself into a slavery worse than anything the Hutts ever did. All they did was break my body. You tried to break my mind!"  
  
"And now I'm going to fix it," Obi-Wan promises him. He picks up the knife. "I think it's time we cut your hair."  
  
Anakin struggles but he's severely hampered by his bonds, and Obi-Wan has infinite patience now that the moisture evaporators are working again. He has to be a little harsh sometimes with his grip on the sleek brown curls but pain is nothing to the Jedi.   
  
He should know, he thinks, and his heart beats time to the silence in the Force, the absolute stillness apart from Anakin's spreading grotesque stink of anger and the dull murmur of ordinary life and death and the insubstantial meaninglessness of both.   
  
"There," he says, "The braid will grow soon enough, Padawan."  
  
It's only three months later that Anakin wakes from a dream, screaming in agony, and Obi-Wan is with him instantly, wiping away his sweat and his tears and the film of fear.  
  
"It's alright," he whispers soothingly, "It's alright."  
  
"She's dead," Anakin cries, "She's dead. I killed her. I didn't mean to hurt her. I would never hurt her!"  
  
"But you did," Obi-Wan says gently, "You turned to the Dark Side and hurt someone you cared for. This is why you have to stay here. To stay hidden."  
  
"I loved her."  
  
Anakin's voice is broken, so broken, and Obi-Wan remembers what it feels like to be that hollow. To have everything good in your life taken away between one moment and the next. One lightsabre stroke, one darksabre stroke, one night of horror.   
  
"I know," he whispers, "But we have each other. It's all we have."  
  
He gathers Anakin close, the stumps of his legs and arm useless, his hand bound tightly to the ring set in the wall, the Force-dampening collar locked around his throat. He rocks him gently.   
  
"We'll make do," he promises, "I'll help you."  
  
Anakin struggles at first but eventually he goes still.


	5. The Rebel Alliance are a bunch of strippers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because the OP misread a previous thought.

A/N: This was written in one shot so it's a bit... shallow. Would love to see it done right!

* * *

 

Who would have thought, Luke wonders, that the Rebel Alliance would find a niche in the most overlooked, overworked, over-the-top social group in the entire galaxy - the (ahem) Adult Entertainment sector.  
  
"So what's your thing?" someone asks, tucking a very small scrap of cloth into a large case full of... sparkly things.   
  
Luke thinks there's feathers in there somewhere but he can't be sure. And he's too afraid to look.   
  
"My thing?"  
  
"Yes," she says, and there's something odd about her skin. It catches the light like small, polished scales. "You know, your game, your persona, your routine?"  
  
"Oh," he says, "I- I don't really have a..."  
  
Someone walks past him in black leather and a collar.   
  
"... a routine...?" he says, and loses his train of thought altogether.  
  
She doesn't seem to notice. Only shrugs and smiles with beautiful white fangs before she snaps her case shut and waves a farewell.  
  
Luke doesn't dare stop her but now he's stranded in the middle of the hangar bay surrounded by all sorts of living beings in very little clothing and a lot of decoration.   
  
This is not, he tells himself, what he expected the Rebel Alliance to be.  
  
"Let me guess," Leia says, "You thought we'd be a bunch of radical idealists in dirty overalls."  
  
Luke opens his mouth to protest.  
  
Leia doesn't give him the chance. She puts her hands on her hips and leans in, voice low and hard and intense. "Well, let me tell you something, buster, the working girls on Coruscant were the first rebels in this galaxy. You want to know why? Because the Empire shut them down hard and the lucky ones were the ones who got away with nothing but the clothes on their backs. There's no room for musicians and actors and dancers left. There's no room for joy and laughter and argument. The Emperor doesn't care about the cultures he wrecks so long as his-his _war machine_ keeps rolling on. I'll bet you've heard of the prostitutes of Fora Flyn?"  
  
"Well, yes," Luke ventures.  
  
"Wrong," Leia snaps, "They're not prostitutes. They're priestesses to a Fertility Goddess. Sure there's some sensuality involved but it's the ritual that's important. The intent and the careful balance of respect and understanding. But what does the Empire do? Label them prostitutes and outlaw five hundred years of tradition!"  
  
Luke stays quiet.  
  
"So yes," Leia continues, "They find a common enemy here, and we fight for them. But most of all, do you know why you can throw a rock in here and hit five strippers and a stand-up comic?"  
  
Luke shakes his head and continues to stay quiet.  
  
"Because while the Empire likes to tell people what they can and can't do, the Forces of the Empire like a little nooky just like everybody else." Leia unfolds her arms. "Which is where you come in."  
  
Luke stands up hurriedly. "Princess," he says, "I'm deeply honoured and I respect the work you do but I'm hardly..."  
  
She frowns. "But we need pilots, Luke. You told us you were a pilot, a _good_ pilot. We're sending a group in to the Death Star - a special request from the officers to celebrate the launch of that monstrosity - and we need pilots to get our people in and then get them back out before it goes up, probably under heavy fire."  
  
"Oh." He breathes a sigh of relief. "For a minute there I thought you were going to turn me into a stripper too," he laughs.  
  
She eyes him critically. "No offence but you'd need a lot of work just to be a warm-up act."  
  
"Hey!"  
  
But he watches the practice run - Mon Mothma reviewing Wedge's gunplay routine and Porkins' parody striptease - and realises glumly that she's probably right.


	6. Obi-Wan/ Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by something above: Obi-wan/happiness, and then I thought about this [broken link] and now I really need it. Feel free to treat this prompt with what is the best way to see him happy in your headcanon. 
> 
> Did he left the Jedi Order for Satine? For Siri? Is the Jedi Order less complicated about relationship, or is Obi-wan celibate and very happy like that, thank you, none of this sex stuff for him, he prefers going on missions, kicking ass, and meditating with his brothers and sisters Jedi in between 
> 
> No angst about never being chosen by Qui-Gon, no angst about Anakin, the war, the clones, the dead.... 
> 
> Just Obi-wan being happy.

Original Dreamwidth Prompt: <http://starwarskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/586.html?thread=1144906#cmt1144906>

* * *

 

 

They tell him that he will be tested.  
  
So Obi-Wan expects pain and regret. He expects sorrow. He expects loss and doubt and guilt. He expects impossible choices.  
  
But he does not expect happiness.   
  
He knows with all the clarity of his rational mind that this is not possible; the Order is destroyed, the Temple is desecrated. The Republic has fallen.   
  
But Anakin stands beneath a gnarled old muja fruit tree in the courtyard of the peaceful, quiet Temple, side-by-side with Qui-Gon and Tahl, and he grins with all the lightness he used to be capable of as a boy.  
  
Obi-Wan feels his throat constrict.   
  
Wonders when Anakin stopped smiling like that in reality.   
  
Here, he is no older or younger than he was when he was on Mustafar.  
  
And Obi-Wan contents himself with the reassurance than this is only a dream. Just a dream. His unconscious yearning playing tricks on him.  
  
But he realises with a start that Qui-Gon is far older than he was when Obi-Wan saw him with his living eyes. His hair and beard are white, his features sharp with advanced years.   
  
And Tahl... his heart breaks to see her. She is straight backed, still, and her green and gold eyes stare out at nothing but as Anakin turns to say something, she smiles and nods. And Qui-Gon lays an affectionate hand on her elbow.  
  
These three are not the only ones, however.  
  
Yoda and Mace converse with Dooku. Bant and Kit Fisto stand quietly with Garen and Clee and, somewhat surprisingly, with Bruck. Obi-Wan drinks in the sight of the near-white hair, the tall, straight figure. The long neck, no longer bent at the unnatural angle he saw at the bottom of the waterfall.  
  
He steps back, certain that he is being tested on his ability to separate dream from reality. To stand firm in the face of temptation.   
  
What he is being tempted by, he does not want to know.  
  
But he knows he does not trust this.  
  
Where, he asks himself, are the Padawans? Where are the initiates? Where is the stern austerity of the Council and the taunt tiredness of the Knights roving from one world to the next, one crisis to the next. Where is the loneliness of aging into obscurity and uselessness.  
  
"Peaceful, is it not?" Satine asks him.  
  
And he startles.  
  
At the sight of her, he is speechless.   
  
She smiles slightly, regal and composed, but beside her Padme's animated face registers open amusement.  
  
Both women are in full regalia - invested with all the symbolism of their nobility and power. The flowers in Satine's hair smell sweet and light, barely noticeable until she is gone and then he knows the loss and mourns it.   
  
The two of them walk down the three shallow stairs and Padme joins Anakin.  
  
Anakin, Obi-Wan realises, who is not dressed in the black Jedi robes he favoured. Anakin, who wears a simple suit in black and white. Who turns to Padme and puts his arm around her waist with the easy possessiveness of a lover.   
  
Exposes his attachment in public, Obi-Wan frets, and his eyes dart to Qui-Gon, suddenly watchful for the censor he knows should be levelled at them both. At Anakin, for not minding his heart and head, and Obi-Wan, for not teaching his Padawan better.  
  
But Qui-Gon pays it no mind, and Tahl leans into Satine's side to whisper something in her ear.   
  
Satine's laugh is not loud but it carries to him in the breeze, light as the scent of her flowers, and he aches suddenly in ways that he has thought were long dead.   
  
Aches to touch her, and hold her. Aches just to exist in her presence. To lose himself in the sight and sound of her.  
  
He looks down reflexively at himself but his Jedi robes are intact. Even patched and worn as they now are from his life in exile.   
  
His hands are as weathered, his fingers still blunted and calloused and burned from the manual labour of keeping himself and his solitary homestead safe in the Tatooine desert.  
  
"Aren't you going to come down?" Ahsoka asks him.  
  
He looks at her.   
  
She is grown up, now, and beautiful. And she wears her Jedi knighthood proudly in her robes with the lightsaber at her belt.   
  
Her tattoos rise on her brow as she registers surprise and enquiry. "Are you okay, Obi-Wan? You look like you've seen a ghost." She laughs a little.  
  
He has. He is.  
  
They are all ghosts.  
  
"Why is everyone here?" he asks.  
  
He waits to be told that he must be excluded. That he must turn away from this place of peace and return to the hard, grinding loneliness of life. That he is not done yet with his duty to the Force, and to the Future.   
  
"To see Anakin," Ahsoka says, as though he should know, "It's the first time he's been back since he left the Order to marry Padme. And now she's pregnant. You were the first one he told, Obi-Wan. Don't you remember? You were so happy just a few days ago..."   
  
He frowns and looks to where Anakin is shepherding Padme to a seat beneath the trees, Satine and Tahl joining Mace as Yoda and Dooku break away on another conversation entirely.  
  
"Was it your mission?" Ahsoka asks sympathetically, "Qui-Gon said it would be hard for you to return to Melida/ Daan but they have come so far since the war. They've made so much progress. You were hopeful before you left."  
  
Hopeful. Happy.   
  
He realises with a shock that these are not words anyone has ascribed to him in some time. Hopeful of victory, yes. Triumphant, certainly. Satisfied, sometimes.   
  
But the war was not a time for happiness or hope.   
  
Before the war... he barely remembers. And before that...  
  
He looks at Qui-Gon and Tahl. Watches them move and breath and *live*.  
  
He remembers the taste of the fruit tart on New Apsolon. Remembers the taste of sapir tea. Remembers Didi's terrible cooking and Dex's bitter caf and the way Reeft used to finish everything he left on his plate when they were initiates.   
  
"I can make your excuses," Ahsoka says softly, "Anakin will understand."  
  
Anakin has never understood, he thinks in a flash of anger. Anakin has never understood the sacrifice and the pain and the doubt and the fear.   
  
The doubt he pushed aside that he was never good enough. That he was not good enough for Qui-Gon and could not be good enough for Anakin. That he was not the one either of them wanted, but was the one they settled for.   
  
And he had tried so hard for both.   
  
"He doesn't need me," he realises, "None of them do."  
  
And maybe, he thinks, maybe this is the test. That he is not essential to anything. That his delusions of duty and responsibility are simply that - delusions. That he is to the Galaxy what the smallest spec of sand is to the Tatooine desert.  
  
"Obi-Wan?" Ahsoka's tattoos are pulling together now, her large eyes genuinely worried, "I think you should come with me."  
  
"I fought so hard for my Master's acceptance," he says, and he can say these words out loud now. He has never been able to before.   
  
Before, they have always been selfish and self-centred.   
  
Before, they would have detracted from the very real trauma Qui-Gon was facing at the devastation Xanatos wrought on his mind and heart. On his ability to trust.   
  
"Master Qui-Gon's acceptance?" Ahsoka echoes, "But he's always accepted you. He cares for you deeply. Did you... I mean, I don't mean to intrude but... has someone said something to make you think otherwise?"  
  
Obi-Wan shakes his head. "You don't know, perhaps. He never wanted me. He refused me three times."  
  
"But Master Qui-Gon offered you an apprenticeship when you first met," Ahsoka protests.  
  
"Ahsoka, there you are!" Anakin's voice calls cheerfully. "What are you and Obi-Wan gossiping about?"  
  
He comes up the steps towards them and then his smile begins to fade. His keen eyes look between the two of them.  
  
"Is everything alright? Has something happened?"  
  
Obi-Wan thinks of everything that has happened. He is still carrying the weight of death and devastation in his mind. Master Sinube and Madame Jocasta's mutilated corpses, the murdered children in the council room.   
  
The stench of Anakin's sickness in the Force as his flesh burned on Mustafar.  
  
"Obi-Wan?" Anakin asks in concern, "Are you okay?"  
  
"No," he hears himself say, "No."  
  
And his former Padawan is there immediately, a hand on his arm and a quick glance over his shoulder the only voiceless summons for help before Qui-Gon, Mace and Bant make their way towards him. None of them run but then Jedi move swiftly, even when they move with calm precision.  
  
"Bring him to the shade," Mace orders, "There has been a sickness epidemic in the Cadavine sector."  
  
"Jedi immunity is usually sufficient for Cadavine illnesses," Bant murmurs, "Though perhaps with overtiredness..."  
  
Obi-Wan is well aware that he is overtired. And overstressed.  
  
He takes a step back. Behind him is the darkness, blissful and familiar. Before him is... he doesn't know what this is.   
  
"Obi-Wan, stop," Qui-Gon says quietly.  
  
And just like that his feet stop. Still. Every instinct in him is to fly or fight but he obeys immediately when it comes to his Master. As he always has. As, he knows with despairing bitterness, he always will.  
  
Qui-Gon's gaze is enigmatic, as it always was. "Perhaps we can talk alone," he says.  
  
And Obi-Wan steels himself for what is to come. Steels himself because this is a wound that has never healed. A trauma that never faded even beneath the worst loss a Jedi has ever faced.   
  
The others cast one last look at him and then leave them to it.   
  
Qui-Gon stands beside him, arms folded into his sleeves and head high. Back straight in spite of his years.   
  
"They don't understand," Qui-Gon says suddenly.  
  
Obi-Wan looks at them. "I don't either," he says.  
  
"No, I don't imagine you do."  
  
Qui-Gon's tone is meditative, as though he sees the truth of the matter but will patiently until Obi-Wan can see it too.  
  
"Most of them should be dead," Obi-Wan says softly, "Anakin has fallen to the Dark Side. He lied to us all, betrayed us all. He killed Padme."  
  
"Not here," Qui-Gon interrupts.  
  
And for a moment Obi-Wan is disoriented, wondering if he is being chastised for speaking too openly, too darkly, but Qui-Gon's eyes are compassionate and patient.  
  
"Here," Qui-Gon tells him, "Anakin Skywalker was found when he was a baby. He grew in the Temple. He was chosen by Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi as an apprentice when he was twelve. When he was nineteen, he met Senator Padme Amidala of the Naboo. They fell in love. He was on the cusp of completing his training when he realised his heart was divided and he could not continue with the Order. He left us for his wife, who is now pregnant. He is a commander in the Naboo Air Force."  
  
"Dreams," Obi-Wan remarks.  
  
"Is peace a dream? Is happiness? Do you not believe a being can find one or both?"  
  
"Dooku would never find peace in the Jedi Order," Obi-Wan says.  
  
"He has found more peace than I will ever know. Because he has questioned his faith, and found it stronger than it ever was. He is to be given a seat on the Council. Your friend Bant is to see her first Padawan achieve knighthood. Your friend Garen is undertaking the creation of refugee safe zones for those escaping war and persecution."  
  
"And Tahl?" Obi-Wan asks ruthlessly.  
  
There is silence for a moment and then, "Tahl's health has never recovered from the torture she faced on New Apsolon. But she is as well as she can be. And more formidable than you or I could ever imagine."  
  
"And your dedication to her?"  
  
Qui-Gon looks at him. "My dedication to you was more important than a romantic love."  
  
Obi-Wan blinks.   
  
Qui-Gon continues, "When you were twelve years old, I returned to the Temple. I was in pain and still suffering from Xanatos' betrayal. You were... faithful. And loyal. And you showed me that your passion did not make you blind to those around you. When you stopped your duel to help Bruck Chun, I knew that you would not use your power to hurt but to help. I offered you an apprenticeship and you accepted. We had our differences but we worked them out. You achieved your knighthood and chose to retain our friendship. I have never regretted a moment with you."  
  
Obi-Wan shakes his head.   
  
"And, Obi-Wan, I know this because I know the world you have come from."  
  
Obi-Wan laughs. "Why does that not surprise me. Even in my visions you are insufferable! You know all and you see all!"  
  
"Do you believe that?"  
  
"I once did. Until I realised how mortal you were. How fragile."  
  
Obi-Wan can close his eyes and still see the red lightsaber thrust through flesh and organs and bone. Can still smell the burned flesh and singed cloth. And then the crackle of flames consuming the last of his youth.  
  
And, he reflects, his happiness.   
  
He watches Satine with Padme and Anakin, watches her grace and poise.  
  
Briefly he wonders what stopped him from giving himself fully to her. She would never have asked him to stay but he had known so clearly what was in her heart. Was it that he had wanted final proof of her feelings? Had he simply been too proud to humble himself before her?  
  
Or had he simply not known what to do with the happiness and hope she gave him?  
  
"This is the test," he breathes.  
  
Qui-Gon sighs. "Obi-Wan, everything is! All of life is a test!"  
  
"But why is this the test that the Force Priestesses give me?"  
  
Qui-Gon shakes his white head. And then he reaches out to lay a broad, gentle hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "You must learn that for yourself, my friend," he says regretfully, "I can only help you so far before you take the next steps yourself."  
  
Obi-Wan watches his former Master - his friend, his mentor, his conscience - walk back towards the fruit trees and the knots of people they have both loved and lost.  
  
On the second step Qui-Gon pauses and turns slightly. "I can tell you that there are not many steps, Padawan," he says.  
  
And proceeds.  
  
And then Obi-Wan gets it.  
  
He takes a step forward.  
  
The others turn to look at him.   
  
He takes another.  
  
They are silent and watchful, but even as he faces them, he waits for an accusation that does not come. Waits for exclusion and impatience.   
  
He takes a third and he is on the first stair. Before him are friends and loved ones, green growing things and old trees and happiness.   
  
If he dares accept it.  
  
He hesitates. Because to accept it means to acknowledge what makes him happy. It means exposing his heart and his mind. It means extending his trust.   
  
To whom? For what? Love, in all its many forms, for brothers and fathers and lovers and friends? Or simply those who bring him joy, and to whom he brings joy in turn?  
  
He moves to the next stair.  
  
Yoda steps forward.  
  
And he stills, eyes watchful, waiting for the instruction.  
  
But Yoda smiles slightly, barely noticeable at this distance.  
  
And he seizes his courage.   
  
He can be happy. And he can be hopeful. Even if he knows that Anakin is Fallen, that Satine was murdered, and all his friends are lost to him. Even if he knows that his trust has been betrayed so many times before. That his heart is wounded and will never heal.  
  
But he can still find happiness.   
  
He takes the last step and Tahl reaches her hand out to him.  
  
"Obi-Wan," she says, "It is good to feel you here again."  
  
And just like that, he feels himself begin to smile.

 


	7. Qui-Gon/ Tahl - domesticity fluff in a tiny apartment on Coruscant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Any pairing. If Jedi, then they're no longer part of the Order. If Senators, then they've either chosen or been forced to walk away. And they're okay with it. 
> 
> Just people being happy and together.

The bed is too small.  
  
Well, _everything_ is too small.   
  
The apartment, the rooms, the furnishings - such as they are - and it feels as though their very lives have shrunk down to Coruscant and the small, ordinary problems of living small, ordinary lives.   
  
He is not used to feeling... overgrown.   
  
He finds himself hunching, shoulders rounding in an effort to take up less space.   
  
A bad habit, he knows, and an unworthy one.   
  
In the back of his mind, however, he also knows that it isn't just the physical space that's begun to nettle at him. It's the emotional impact.  
  
The Temple has dominated his life since he was a baby. He has known nothing else, though he has seen so much. And the one thing the Temple has always offered its Knights has been space. The space to learn, to grow, to reflect, to work. The space to see their actions as just one part of a wide arc of motive and consequence, past and future, not just the solitary, shallow present.   
  
Qui-Gon does not regret leaving the Temple.  
  
But he wonders if Tahl does.  
  
She has recovered from the ravages of near-death on New Apsolon, though her strength and her health will never be what it was. She has recovered her grace and poise, her confidence. More to the point, she has recovered her equilibrium, which he envies.   
  
Envy is a new emotion for him, as is desire and timidity.  
  
How many months, he wonders, since the revelations on New Apsolon. Of holding Tahl's dying body in his arms, and knowing that he could not let her go. Of knowing that his life would be worthless without her. Of deciding that this one small personal love was worth more than the epic proportions of the galaxy thrice over.   
  
She has never faulted him for the life bond he forged between them to keep her alive. She has never fought it, nor denounced it.   
  
When everyone else questioned his sanity, Tahl stood by him.  
  
He cannot lightly forget the look of betrayal on Bant's face, or the look of despair in Obi-Wan's eyes. He hopes they will understand when they are older and have seen more of the love one being can have for another. He hopes that when they do, they will find it in their hearts to venture out of the Temple - just once - to see what life can be like for small, ordinary people.  
  
He turns his head unobtrusively to watch his wife.  
  
The word jolts inside his mind, terrifyingly wonderful and wonderfully terrifying, and he watches while she moves gracefully from the tiny desk with the Archives terminus to the shelf where she keeps her comm unit for the Senate.   
  
She has found work in the Senate as easily as she finds her way around the apartment she shares with him. As easily as she finds her way through the streets of Coruscant or the labyrinth of small, petty problems that arise when two Jedi Masters of a certain age leave the Order to be lovers in obscurity.  
  
She has never faltered. Nor has she ever rejected him. Not even she woke and he confessed his sin.   
  
She has taken everything in her stride and yet he finds his shoulders hunching beneath the worry that he has somehow stolen her from the world where she truly belongs.   
  
Because the Temple has been her life as well, and the vast realms of information have been her domain, but now she works on small questions in a small apartment with small reward and he cannot help but think that this is unworthy of the woman that she is.   
  
He is sunk deep enough into his thoughts that he doesn't immediately notice Tahl walking towards him.  
  
He does notice when she stops before him, and certainly notices when she leans down to place her hands on his shoulders, and her lips against his brow.   
  
"I can hear your doubts," she murmurs into his skin, "That bond is not only for energy, Qui-Gon. Your thoughts betray you."  
  
And he breathes out slowly. "I'm sorry," he says, and begins to repair the shields that he has allowed to slip.  
  
Her grip on his shoulders tightens painfully.  
  
"Stop that," she says sharply, and kisses his left temple with the barest brush of her lips.   
  
Then, unexpectedly, she sits down in his lap.  
  
He raises his eyebrows. Not that he disapproves but the gesture is new.   
  
"I am only going to say this once," she says, her sightless green and gold gaze fixed somewhere in the vicinity of his throat, "I do not regret this bond. I do not regret leaving the Temple. I am a Jedi with or without the acceptance of the Order. As such, my needs are simple and my wants are few. In fact, I can distil them all into one word - you. You insufferable, obstinate fool."  
  
He blinks.  
  
"If you regret the actions you took on New Apsolon, Qui-Gon," she continues, "Then I suggest you examine your own heart."  
  
Instinctively he tightens his own grip on her waist.  
  
"You are my heart," he says.  
  
She does not immediately respond. And then he feels it - the brush of her mind against his. The slow, seeping consciousness not his own.  
  
He closes his eyes and groans.   
  
She knows what that does to him.  
  
"I'm glad to hear it," she says drily, and he isn't sure whether she means his involuntary sound of pleasure or his voluntary confession of hopeless devotion.   
  
The thought makes him smile. And he does not drop the fond, loving expression even when her fingers rise to curiously map the contours of his face.  
  
She curls just as inquisitively into the depths of his thoughts, and he lays them bare for her. Open and vulnerable and entirely at her mercy.  
  
"Well," she says at last, "I understand your concern about the rent but the bed?"  
  
"It is a very small bed, Tahl," he protests.  
  
Her fingers slip lower, to the sensitive skin of his neck and the pulse beating slow and steady.  
  
She hums thoughtfully. "A tricky problem," she agrees, "But I'm sure we can find a way to fit."  
  
Her fingers dip just beneath the collar of his shirt, rough-skinned and teasing, and he can feel the gleam of mischief in her mind as the realisation of what she means makes itself known to him.  
  
He laughs and pulls her closer. "You always were cleverer," he says, and captures her mouth with his own before she can retort.


End file.
